Rebirth
by Fierceawakening
Summary: Sequel to Cold. After the events of Darkness Rising, Megatron awakens thanks to the dark energon he ingested, and returns to deal with Starscream. M for manual spark-sex, some violence.
1. Chapter 1

He was cold.

He shouldn't have been. His kind were built to withstand extremes of temperature. On frozen planets, most metal would eventually grow brittle and snap, but good Cybertronian metal would remain strong.

He knew this, yet the feeling persisted. Something had pierced him, a shard of some terrible ice, something cold enough to chill his very spark.

He should have felt heat and light, there in his chest, the warmth of the energy that gave him life. Instead, he felt only this, only brittle frost at the core of him, as if the ice had pierced his spark itself, feeding on its heat until nothing remained but its own chill.

He wondered, drifting, whether there was anything left of him at all, or if his spark had guttered out completely and he'd somehow forgotten to notice he was dead.

_There was an explosion,_ he thought. _It killed me._

Was that what had speared him? He remembered bright light, the blue of a space bridge, debris flying as it burst apart, and himself, caught in the blast and unable to fly free. Had a piece of the space bridge come loose and pierced him through the spark?

He looked down, staring at his chest. The plating there was whole, barely even dented. He could see no sign of his wound. Optics flaring, he reached down with his claws and scraped them over the metal, looking for any sign of damage.

Finding none, he snarled and retracted his chest plates. It unnerved him to do that, even here, floating in the far reaches of space. Opening made him vulnerable. If any enemy found him, it would be a simple matter to destroy whatever was left of his already injured spark.

Still, he had to know. He had to see what had become of it. Of himself.

What he saw looked nothing like any spark he recognized. Where he should have seen a bright orb of red light, whirling with energy as he moved, he saw only a glowing, purple void. It drew his optics to it, seizing and holding his gaze as though it would pull what was left of him into its depths and consume him.

He roared, rage racing through his systems like fuel. What had happened? He didn't know, and on the heels of that lack of knowledge came envy of anything that still burned warm. He would hunt them, the ones who remained whole. He would tear them apart, ripping the sparks from their chests and crushing them in his bare claws. Their dying sparks would warm him, for a time.

_No, _he thought, suddenly resolute. _That is not enough._

Thinking it, he felt something, a tiny strand of heat, a filigree of flame laced through the hollow at the center of him. It burned, its flickering painful.

He didn't like the pain. Pain was for others. Not for him.

_I will kill. The energy of the dying will fuel me._

Confused, he looked down. A tendril of red light, glowing like hot metal, wove in and out of the purple hollow in his chest.

_Red, _he remembered suddenly. _My spark burned red._

He bellowed, tossing his head, and the wisp of light brightened. Lavender lightning chased it, tightening around it, threatening to suffocate it.

With that, a wisp of memory: that lightning, whirling in concert with his spark, a cold and merciless power that had danced through his circuitry.

He had commanded it. Had used it. Legions of the dead had arisen to its call. And he had led them, bidding them destroy his enemies.

_This void in me, _he thought, remembering his claws clutched tight around an icicle of purple crystal. _I created it._

Dark energon. That had been its name. The legends had said - had said it was the blood of a demon, the crystallized lifeforce of the Chaos Bringer himself.

He had plunged it into his own chest eagerly, piercing his very spark, impatient to claim its power for himself.

And it had bent to his will, granting him the power to raise and command the dead. Until he himself had died, died in the blast, and arisen.

He had stolen his crystal from the deeps of space. The things there drove difficult bargains. And the Chaos Bringer would drive the hardest bargains of all.

What price would such a being demand of him? Was he now supposed to be its slave, its mindless undead warrior-king, risen anew with all the strength of the mightiest of all Cybertronian war machines?

_War._ He'd led an army, once. An army of living machines, long before he'd raised the dead ones. They had served him. They'd belonged to him. They'd razed worlds in his name.

Or would, once he returned to command them.

Someone else would try, in his absence. Someone he knew. He could not remember clearly who that was. But he remembered the other's spark, a spark he had claimed for his own many times, searing it with his own heat and forcing it to his will, over and over again.

He remembered all he'd found in it: ambition, and cunning, and lies upon lies.

_But what belonged to me did not belong to you,_ he thought, remembering. _And you, yourself, were mine. _

His lip plates curled back in a determined smile as he stared down at the wispy red light that remained of his spark. His teeth glittered sharp and bright and his optics flared with light.

He had returned. He was no sparkless drone, given only a mockery of life by the power of dark energon. His spark still flared, however weakly.

"I am not yours," he thundered, his own voice ringing in his audio receptors. "I belong to no one but myself!"

Agony shot through his chest, the empty chamber suddenly flaring red-hot as his spark re-ignited. The chilling lightning wheeled and danced, spearing through it, winding around it, seeking to puncture it or smother it or both.

His fists clenched, his claws digging into his own fingers, pricking discomfort through his freezing hands. He welcomed it, because it was real.

_I am,_ he thought, watching the crimson orb of light blaze, crackling, tendrils of its heat reaching for the lightning smothering them and feeding on the freezing burn. He was ice, all ice and fire, and it would rend him to pieces to be both at once.

And that might kill him. But he had already died, and death held no terror for him any longer.

_I had a name, _he thought, watching his spark as both void and substance fed it. It burned, and shone, and consumed.

And then his name returned to him: a name pulled from legend, just as the Chaos Bringer's name itself had been. A name he'd taken from the strongest of the gods, as his kind knew them. He'd shortened it. Sharpened it and made it his own, a glittering weapon, a name for the new age he would lead and himself as its leader, all at once.

"I am Megatron," he roared, the mingled energy of the dark energon and of his own spark seething through his chest, its freezing heat so intense the plating around it burned red-hot one moment and shone white with frost the next.

_I am Megatron, _he thought again, bellowing in rage and might and desire.

_And I am going home._


	2. Chapter 2

He met with Soundwave first.

After the confusion of his resurrection, the smaller machine's silence reassured him. Soundwave simply stared back at him, head slightly inclined in a gesture of respect, wings fluttering, awaiting his leader's command.

He waited a long time to give that command. He'd wanted to know, of course, what had happened since his death. But all the same, he liked the waiting. Soundwave would never hurry him or press him.

"Tell me what happened," he growled finally. Soundwave nodded and obeyed, his blank faceplate flickering as he played a recording of a familiar voice.

"Decepticons, it is with deep sorrow that I note for the log: Megatron's spark has been extinguished. All hail Starscream!"

Heat flared in the listener's chest. He chuckled, feeling his supposedly-extinguished spark pulse with anger and amusement at that voice. _Dead, am I?_

"Starscream," he murmured, his claws glittering as he clenched them tight.

Remembering the name soothed him. The cold confusion of the void was fading now. He was himself, and he knew them. All of them. Especially the one who had betrayed him.

He turned back to Soundwave. "Does he know that you are here?"

Soundwave shook his head and flicked his wings. Then he played another audio file: the ringing of a sensor detecting a life signal, and Starscream's response.

"Soundwave, I know how loyal you were to our dear, departed leader, but we both saw the explosion. It rocked the ship and damaged its hull, even after we fled."

The recording repeated the chime of the sensor. Then Starscream spoke again.

"Clearly that sensor is malfunctioning. Perhaps the blast damaged it. Perhaps we've spent too long on a planet filled with sand and dirt and other things that surely wreak havoc on delicate electronics. Either way, it's time for you to face facts, old friend. Megatron is dead."

Megatron growled. "Do you really think I die so easy, Starscream? Or are you simply hoping to convince the others of it and hoping to handle me yourself?"

He chuckled, his claws tightening into fists. "You handled my army quite well when I was away, my Second. But you cannot handle me. You never could."

Transforming, he rocketed skyward, roaring toward the Decepticon ship.

Like a reassuring shadow, Soundwave followed.

###

Soundwave entered the throne room first, his feet faintly scratching against the metal as he walked toward the dais at the far end of the room.

Once again, he played the sound file, the room filling with the sound of Megatron's life signal.

"Again, Soundwave?" Starscream snapped. "We've been over this."

Soundwave was silent, his faceplate dimming as the beacon died. Megatron waited, his spark pulsing hot as he listened just behind the doorway.

Starscream tried again. "Soundwave, you've always been loyal to Megatron. I understand this must be hard for you. But one file, from one sensor, is simply not enough. I have work to do. I cannot chase after faint signals on a whim.

"If this is all you have, I regret to say I can do nothing for you. If, however, you can find more concrete evidence that -"

Striding into the throne room, Megatron shoved Soundwave aside. His wings flicked in discomfort or surprise.

Megatron raised his arm, power crackling through his cannon. It felt good, the heat of his weapons systems warming his chilled plating, the icy lightning of the dark energon crackling a counterpoint as he fired, all of it speeding in a bolt of light toward the throne.

Starscream shrieked and took to the air as the energy flared around the throne he'd been sitting in. It glowed white-hot and then melted, an optic-scalding blob of light.

It smoked as it cooled, a shapeless mass of ruined, blackened metal. Dazed, Starscream hovered above it, staring.

That was hardly the reaction of a deserving leader. Still, Megatron reflected, at least the fool still had enough sense to get out of the way.

"Is that concrete enough for you?" the tyrant taunted as he transformed, speeding toward the bewildered Seeker.

Before Megatron had used the dark energon, he never would have been able to fly fast enough to catch a Seeker who didn't want to be caught. But now, the power of the Destroyer himself lanced through Megatron's circuitry.

Starscream had some of it as well. Shortly after taking the dark energon into himself, Megatron and Starscream had spark-merged. But whatever trace amount of dark energon Starscream had absorbed that way, it wasn't enough to let him outrun the upgraded Megatron. Not when the Seeker was already startled to begin with.

Megatron transformed as they hit the wall. Starscream howled at the impact, the wall's paneling buckling as Megatron drove the Seeker into it. For a long moment, the frame under Megatron's hand was perfectly still.

Then Starscream looked up. "My lord," he said, his optics flickering as they recalibrated. "Surely you couldn't blame me for believing that explosion killed you -"

Megatron's claw tightened around the sensitive cabling of Starscream's neck. "Surely not. Not when you've already seen dark energon bring the dead back to life with your own optics."

He grinned, showing teeth. On the other side of the room, Soundwave's wings fluttered silently as he recorded the exchange.

_Good_, Megatron thought. Once the other Decepticons heard this, there would be no way Starscream could scheme his way into convincing them their true leader was dead.

Once they heard part of it, anyway. There would be no need for them to hear everything Megatron had planned.

Starscream tossed his head, shivering as Megatron's freezing fingers tightened around the cabling in his neck. "Of course - my lord - but - dark energon creates mindless, rampaging beasts. I - if I had known you were back online, I would have assumed -"

"You did know," Megatron rasped, his other claw scraping along Starscream's chestplate as the Seeker squirmed. "Soundwave told you."

Starscream opened his mouth to retort, but Megatron's claw digging into the space beneath his chestplate silenced him.

"What are you - ?" he finally stammered.

Megatron's only reply was a roar as he ripped the chestplate free and tossed it aside.

Acting purely on instinct, Starscream raised a spindly hand to protect his now-exposed spark. Megatron could see it pulse, heavy and bright with the Seeker's fear.

Megatron grabbed the thin hand, squeezing ever more tightly.

Starscream yelped. "Cold -"

"Get this out of my way," Megatron answered, feeling the thin metal of Starscream's hand give. Frantically, the Seeker nodded. Megatron let go, giving Starscream's arm a hard wrench for good measure.

Starscream's optics widened in shock and pain as Megatron slid his claw into Starscream's exposed spark chamber, carefully wrapping his fingers around the ruby orb within.

He growled, feeling its warmth. The dark energon had given him power unimaginable - power over death itself - but it had made him so cold. The heat of Starscream's lifeforce scorched his hand, its incandescence thawing his numb circuitry.

Starscream's spark had also been touched by the dark energon, and Megatron felt that, too, the frigid lightning seeking to ground itself in his fingertips. As much as he hated the dark energon's cold, he welcomed that. It made them kin. His hand tightened involuntarily around the orb he held.

Starscream shuddered at the feel of his lord's icy hand wrapped around his very lifeforce. Megatron grinned again, his fangs glittering in the red light of the Seeker's spark.

"Like that, do you?" he whispered, sliding his fingertips over the outer edge of the sphere of light, as gently as he could. One false move and his claws could pierce the Seeker's spark and extinguish it.

"Megatron, please," Starscream panted. "I - I warned you that the space bridge was about to explode."

"And left me to die." Megatron's fingers closed around Starscream's spark. He fought down a moan as the warm thing in his hand pulsed hard, wheeling with excitement and fear.

"My lord - no. No - please. I - I had to ensure that our ship would be outside the blast radius. I - had the other Decepticons to think of -" The Seeker's wings clicked in a frantic cadence.

Megatron's grip tightened. "Yes, because you'd already appointed yourself their leader."

"No -! I - you were dead. Someone had to -"

The tyrant laughed. "Death means nothing to me, Starscream. Whether mine or yours."

"Master -!"

"That's better." His fingertips danced possessively over Starscream's spark. Tendrils of energy crackled out to ground themselves in Megatron's hand, spark-heat and dark energon alike prickling the sensors there.

Remembering their silent visitor, Megatron titled his head. "Go," he snarled.

There was a faint sound as Soundwave transformed and flew back out the door. Starscream sputtered in dismay, no doubt realizing that Soundwave must have recorded it all.

Right down to calling Megatron "master."

The tyrant's optics flared an eldritch purple as the power of the dark energon raced through him and he turned back to his captive.

"But I shared dark energon with you." He rumbled with remembered pleasure, thinking of Starscream's thin frame doubled over in shock, pain, and desire as he struggled to hold the dark energon-infused energy. "Perhaps you too have power over death."

He traced his fingertips over Starscream's spark, chillingly gentle. "Shall I find out?"

Starscream cried out, a sound that was half cry, half moan. "No - no. I - I was wrong - Megatron - master. I should have - trusted you."

Megatron felt his own spark pulse in triumph and desire. He forced his faceplates to impassive stillness and pretended not to be impressed. "Perhaps you would come back as I did, whole and healthy. Though I must warn you: It was painful. More painful than even you could enjoy."

His hand closed slowly over Starscream's spark. The Seeker panted, and Megatron heard the unmistakable sound of cooling fans roaring to full power.

"Megatron -" he cried, though whether from fear or desire or both, the tyrant couldn't tell. "Please -"

"Or perhaps you'd come back like the others, a mindless member of my undead legions, with no thought but to do my bidding."

Starscream squealed in protest. "But - but Megatron, you need me! Surely - surely you prefer someone who can strategize and plan, who can devote his processor to your cause and to - serving you -"

Megatron laughed again, still caressing his Second's spark. He bent his head to kiss and lick at Starscream's cheek, his other claw twining in the neck cabling he held. Starscream gasped, flicking his wings and pressing his chest into Megatron's hand.

"You do like this," Megatron murmured. "Even when you know I'm deciding whether to let you overload or kill you."

Starscream lifted his head. His mouth worked as if he were trying to speak, to craft the perfect lie to snare Megatron in. But in the end, he simply stared, his optics as bright crimson as his spark.

"I belong to you," he finally said.

Megatron nodded. There was nothing more for Starscream to say. It would be enough or it would not, and for all Starscream's scheming and clever little plots, Megatron would decide based on that alone.

He snarled, his lip plates curling back as his hand clenched around the sphere of ruby fire he held. He cried out as its heat seared the plating of his hand, burning away the chill of the dark energon.

Starscream keened as Megatron's frozen hand chilled his spark. His slender hands reached up to dig into the plating at Megatron's back, the thin claws winding their way between the sheets of metal and tearing, half caress and half desperate violence.

_Survive this_, Megatron thought, feeling the frantic whirling of the heat under his hand, the red light gleaming in the spaces between his fingers._ Overload before I crush you, and you live._

Frantic, Starscream thrashed, lightning lancing from his spark as it flared, terrified and needy.

Megatron's hand was warm, warm and alive and heated to melting, and it no longer mattered, because everything burned.

Starscream threw back his head and screeched, a wild cry of triumph and anguish. Megatron felt the spark under his hand contract, tightening in on itself.

Then it pulsed hard, the energy flaring as it burst outward, its blazing heat forcing Megatron's hand open, and the chill of the dark energon coming after, like a seal, like a promise.

Megatron smiled as the burning in his hand cooled to a dull pain. It no longer mattered whether Starscream had intended betrayal or simply tried to take advantage of Megatron's death.

He had claimed the dark energon. It had remade him, and death meant nothing. He had claimed Starscream, and the dark energon had forever marked Starscream as his. His betrayal, in turn, was nothing.

He slid his hand free of Starscream's spark chamber. Starscream twitched, his systems not yet fully calibrated, and would have slid down the wall if not for Megatron's other hand at his neck holding him up.

Megatron looked over at the throne, the mangled metal cool now.

_I will rebuild it_, he thought. _I am home._


End file.
